Looking Back, Living Forward

In the time my blog has been idle since late February, you could say I've been busy. March and April are always busy months for a high school choir director - preparing and performing in various festivals/competitions/assessments and getting ready for end of year concerts and commencement. It's enough to keep any sane person's plate full. I, however, decided to turn March and April into a freaking buffet.  

March 8, the Frau and I picked up our periodic discussion of downsizing, the headaches of home maintenance - we own an older home with "character" and the character is starting to cost us - and the amount of drive time I have to work (about 45-50 minutes). Usually, the discussion drifts to exploring where we want to ultimately retire, with me looking for employment in those areas, and us making one final move to a warm climate and a maintenance free and downsized home. Different stars were in alignment on March 8, though, and we went into search mode.  The morning of March 9 we sat down in our respective recliners with our Mac Books and started searching for town homes and luxury apartments closer to my school.  We visited some of these that afternoon and the following day, and on the evening of March 10, signed a lease on a luxury apartment 15 minutes from my school.  We put the house on the market on March 11, took possession of the apartment on March 18 and spent my spring break moving, sold the house two weeks later, and close the sale a week from tomorrow. Throw in a garage sale and numerous car trips full of the dregs that just seem to grow when one is moving out, and you could say we had multiple "full plates" over the past few weeks.

Yes, things have been crazy, but we are about to finally settle into some sort of normalcy, love our new place, and both of us are looking forward to more time together, more time writing, and less windshield time for me. Which leads me to the focus of this, and possibly the next few postings. Moving and downsizing resulted in me looking back at lots of "treasures" - not all of which needed to be saved, but which certainly brought back many fond people memories - and lots of "I told you so" moments.

"I told you so" #1: I have always been a photo hound, and in the days of print film I spent hundreds of dollars on hundreds of pictures everywhere I traveled. My mother would always comment, "there are no people in this picture!" I scoffed at her and marveled at the artistry of my photos of major landmarks all over Europe. As I went through tubs of loose pictures and unopened photo albums, I discovered that the majority of the pictures I wanted to save had (yes, Mom, you were right again) people in them. Its the people that made those memories and landmarks special for me.

"I told you so" #2: The Frau has been telling me for years that I need to go through and sort all my old photos and I might find some of the ones I've been searching for through the years.  Two years ago, when my oldest friend, Robert, and I both turned 50, I wanted to put together a Shutterfly book of the experiences we have shared since we were in 4th grade, into junior high and high school, college, and a few European travel trips.  Our parents were good friends, as well, and I had no doubt I would come up with plenty of fodder for the book.  Robert's birthday came and went with no such book, because I simply couldn't find but  4-5 pictures of us. I could recall specific pictures, but I couldn't locate them. During the whirlwind that has been the past two months, Robert lost his mom. Only days before the funeral I had finally found the missing pictures (and more that I had forgotten I had) in the process of packing and moving. I was able to put the book together - two years late, but probably at a much more appreciated time. The book, you see, was framed by a picture of the birthday card we had been sending back and forth, with extra notes stapled inside, since 1974. We got the idea from his mom who had done something similar with a close friend of hers for many, many years. 

Regardless the chaos and frenetic nature of the past few weeks, the journey through forgotten photos has been a welcome calm of reflection, even while the rest of my life is moving forward in an exciting new direction.

Back in the Saddle . . . Again

I'm back.  I've been feeling a need to write, and I'm tired of the voice nagging me to start blogging again.  Alright, already.  (Truly, I had no idea I had been away for so long.)  And I'm also going to try to follow more carefully the blogs you see to the right - some old favorites, and some new friends - all of which I recommend.  So, a few varied thoughts follow - just to get me back in the saddle . . . again.

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For me, this time of year is New Year's.  I have and always will, I suppose, operate on an academic calendar.  It is just the way I'm wired.   Every school year begins with me wanting to try something new - some new "hook" that will motivate students to take an active part in their learning and not just sit back waiting to "receive."  A former student and Facebook friend posted the following this morning, and I think the fourth statement nicely verbalizes my focus/obsession for this new year:

Give me a sticker and I will do my very best for a few minutes.

Give me a warm smile and I will do my very best for a little while.

Give me encouragement and I will do my very best for a long while.

Give me the experiences that help me believe in myself and I will do my very best forever.

Let's see if it works.

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I have found myself doing a lot of leisure reading on the boat this summer, and almost all of it has revolved around strong female law enforcement mysteries.  If the genre appeals to you at all, I recommend Linda Rodriguez' Every Last Secret, Sally Shield's blog, and a series of novels that take place in an Amish community by Linda Castillo (Sworn to Silence, Pray for Silence, and Breaking Silence).  Links to Linda's and Sally's blogs are on my list to the right.

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In the last few months I had the opportunity to meet Dr. Ron Holt, a psychiatrist who volunteers much of his life to the cause of educating about human sexuality, teen suicide prevention (particularly as it relates to the LGBT community), and bullying.   If you ever have the opportunity to hear him speak, I can't recommend him highly enough.  A link to his website is in my list to the right, and I'll be talking more about his message in a future post.  I have also posted several of his resources on my Pinterest Board entitled "Love Your Neighbor."

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Church.   Lots of thoughts about church of late.  None of them definitive.   Look for posts on this topic, and while you wait, read I Knew Jesus Before He Was a Christian . . . and I Liked Him Better Then by Rubel Shelly.

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Horse is saddled up.  I plan to take some trips on these and other topics very soon.  Pass the word.

Walk Away from the Woodshed

I've been thinking a lot lately about the blogging craze, the willingness for folks to bare themselves on the world wide web, and the stories we tell ourselves and others.  Folks flock to bookstore self-help sections to find some sort of absolution and solution for conflicts and problems with which they are dealing.  The books tell them to avoid those situations in the first place, leaving them feeling more oppressed and alone with their burden, and plodding off to "the woodshed" to punish themselves for being "so stupid" in the first place.    

In another of those intersecting moments, I've found myself reading blogs by one friend who is Buddhist, who comments on the stories we tell ourselves.  She says we tell ourselves many stories of "who we are" in various moments, and Buddhist practice would say that if we don't like who we are in those moments, we should "change the story" - much like we change the channel on the tv or radio.  Granted, this is my interpretation of HER interpretation of a book that she read, but I think this is the gist, and I like what it implies.  One of the "stories" she tells herself is that she is not a very good writer.   I got all caught up in that comment, because I LOVE her writing, and I couldn't believe she said that about herself.   Then I realized, she wasn't saying it was a fact - it is just the "story" that she tells herself.   And, I suspect, she'd like to change the channel from that story.   That "story" allows her to make excuses when her writing isn't received as she had hoped.   I had to admit that one of the stories I tell myself is that weight is a big "issue" for me - and I use that story to "excuse" my lack of will power at controlling how I treat my body.   I decided that rather than find my next excuse for a bag of M&Ms or a creme filled chocolate donut, I would simply start telling myself to "change the channel."   Old story - I am a person who will always struggle with her weight.   New story - I am a person who can make healthy and happy choices about her eating and exercise.  It's Wednesday night, and that method has been effective, and somewhat satisfying, for the past three days.  In refusing to live in the story that weight is problematic for me, I'm finding, moment by moment, that I can tell myself a healthier story of a stronger C.   

Another friend has been telling her personal story of recent pain and self-discovery on her blog. Not only has it been cathartic for her, but she is discovering that the sharing of her story and her willingness to be vulnerable in new ways is providing a start of healing for others who have heard her story and realized they have lived a similar story - and they are not alone.   And in finding out she is not alone, her own healing is beginning.

At my church, we have been talking about the importance in the Christian community of sharing our stories in order to build community.   As one retired pastor tried to explain, we all have a story, and all our stories are important, and it is important to share those stories with each other.  I am finding this more true with each passing day.

So often, we keep our stories to ourselves, like some precious possession (or curse) that no one else could ever understand.   The hoarding of our personal story deprives us of the ability to help someone else deal with their story, and also puts us in the position of potentially poisoning ourselves with a story that really needs to be retold (change the channel!).  Sharing enables others to help us sort through the falsity or veracity of the stories we tell ourselves.

I know I take myself "to the woodshed" far too often, punishing myself for not "doing it right" - "it" being life, in general.  Punishment without rehab just isn't all that effective.   Self-flagellation may give me a momentary feeling of finding some sort of justification for my failings, but it is in my willingness to make myself vulnerable to someone else, accountable to people that I know genuinely care about me, that I begin the necessary healing of rehabilitation, thereby gaining the strength to change the channel to a more positive story.  Change the channel, and walk away from the woodshed into a community of friends ready to listen. 

Blogatory

This is where I'm drifting these days. I have much I want to write about, but none of it am I able to really share at this moment - even for the few readers who follow this bit of self-indulgence. Suffice it to say, I'm not being "Blothful" (Slothy Blogger), but I'm dealing with a couple of very different issues that are simulataneously draining (if you only knew!) and evigorating me - both emotionally and physically. I'm also feeling "old" for the first time in my life, and I'm having to come to grips with that. I think it's an ok thing - for the most part. I'll get back to you on that as I have more time to process. (So keep checking, Greta! It's nice to have someone keep me accountable.)

Blog Bloat

I'm feeling a bit like I used to in college in those classes where I was supposed to maintain a "journal" of sorts. Invariably, I would go through spells where I would mentally compose all sorts of brilliant observations - which never made it to paper. Then, the night before the journal was to be submitted, I'd be sitting in Perkins with a pot of coffee, trying to "recollect" all those insightful comments. Of course, I'd do my best to make them sound as if they had been written over the designated period of time, and not crafted at one highly caffienated sitting. Cyber-journaling doesn't allow that. Thanks to tattle-tale technology, if I manage to write several entries this afternoon, it will be abundantly clear that they were all written on the same date.

Get over it! And be glad I'm back-on-blog for the moment.

Deep and Wide

Remember that cute little Sunday School song? And its spiritual depth was only enhanced by the subsequent verses where one began to delete words and hum (Hmmm and wide, Hmmm and wide, there's a fountain flowing, Hmm and wide . . . ). Sort of the sacred alternative to B-I-N-G-O. I often wonder if I had grown up Epsicopalian rather than Southern Baptist if I would have tragically missed learning this little tome . . .? But I digress.

The purpose of the title of this post is that it came to mind as the most succinct reason I could conjure up as to why I started this little blog. My Frau and I were discussing this new little adventure, and I was having one heck of a time explaining the attraction.

"What ever happened to picking up the phone, writing a letter, or even e-mail?"
"Well . . . it gives you an opportunity to communicate with friends you don't see every day - share daily or more frequent ponderings or happenings that you might not normally share in a typical phone call."
"But why do so many people have to know about everything we do?"
"Well . . . it's not really about everything we do . . ."
And so the conversation continued. Point of Reference - the Frau doesn't enjoy typing or most things about computers, for that matter. And to be honest, I had similar questions before I joined the club, as it were. So it caused me to ponder a bit - and that's when it hit me . . .

Deep and Wide . . .
Writing has always been a source for working through matters of import, emotional turmoil, and occasionally to amuse myself with witticisms only I (and a few demented friends) can appreciate. And I tend to write better when I know I'll have an audience (regardless of how small it might be). So it occurred to me that my hope in starting this blog was simply:

To explore becoming more intellectually Deep . . .
And rant about my ever renewable attempts to become less physically Wide . . .

Perhaps one of these days, I can retitle things . . . Deep and Hmmm, Deep and Hmmm . . . .
Amen.

This is Cinzia . . . weighing in on matters of importance to me . . . and maybe a few of my crazy friends.